


What Was She Thinking?

by RedHummingbird



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHummingbird/pseuds/RedHummingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the events of 2x13, and assumes that Duncan and Charlie get Monroe and Connor out alive and they all head back to the farmstead to Miles, Rachel and Gene - who when they find out about Charlie and Connor all decide to give her a piece of their mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Charlie was lagging behind the others as they arrived back at the farmhouse on the outskirts of Willoughby, as she’d stopped to try and bag a few rabbits on the way. She was still a bit surprised by the events of New Vegas and needed a little time to process. Duncan and her men had rescued Monroe and Connor from their cage fight, killing Gould and his goons, and pocketing all the diamonds from the casino as a bonus. It was a fantastic haul, but Duncan then needed to get out of town pronto. So her entire clan had decided to come back to Willoughby and take on the Patriots. Charlie had got the impression that the clansmen were itching for a real battle, rather than the glorified security work they’d been doing at the casino. So this was all a real stroke of luck for their little resistance.

She was still a bit uncomfortable at the thought of Duncan coming back with them though. They’d worked together to free Monroe and Connor, and Duncan had been perfectly civil, but there was a frisson of tension between the two of them that she didn't really understand. And Duncan was not the easiest person to read.

The whole situation was a little awkward, really. Monroe had barely said two words to her since he’d come across her and Connor. In fact, if she thought about it, he had said only one word; a solitary, gruff “thanks” when she held the door open for he and Connor to escape from the cage that they were supposed to fight to the death in. From there he was busy helping Duncan’s men get their stuff together and bail out, and he had ridden among the mercenaries the whole way back, she guessed to build a rapport and evaluate these new additions to the fight.

Connor on the other hand… he’d been almost shell-shocked when she helped him out of the cage. Monroe had got a couple of good punches in and she could tell he was in some pain, so she supported him as they ran to Duncan’s tents with the others. It wasn't long after they got on the road though that he had recovered his usual bravado. She’d noticed him a few times looking over at her with a look that he probably thought was charming as all hell; to be honest, she’d had to stifle a laugh. It had been fun, sure, but it was just a one-time thing. He was just a kid really – even though he was, what, five years older than her? He just seemed so immature. She didn't see it happening again.

She’d caught four rabbits by this point and figured it was time to wander to camp before people came looking for her. She wasn't far. It took her just over an hour to make the journey, the rabbits tied together and slung over her back.

She arrived at the farmstead in rapidly fading light. The mercenaries were quietly setting up camp in a field next to the house. She saw Duncan directing the men about; as Charlie walked past she caught her eye and Duncan grinned and tipped her head in acknowledgement. That was a little strange, Charlie thought, but shrugged, nodded back, and continued to walk down the driveway.

The minute she spotted Miles on the veranda, she figured she knew what Duncan was smirking about. Miles was furious. He was pacing up and down, and.. was that Connor? Yes, it was.. _Oh no…_ Connor was standing awkwardly at one end of the veranda, while Miles ranted at him. She caught the words “irresponsible idiot” and she was fairly certain she knew what this was all about. God knows how he’d found out. She looked for another path into the house, as she wasn't exactly keen for a public dressing-down. Unfortunately Miles caught sight of her. “Charlie. Get over here,” he shouted, and she knew she might as well get it over and done with. “I’m coming, Miles,” she replied, resignedly.

As she got closer to the house, she realised Bass was leaning against the side of the veranda, arms crossed, and a hard expression on his face. He locked eyes with her and tilted his head to the side, as if to suggest that she deserved all she got; but there was a hint of empathy in those ice-blue eyes. She imagined he’d been read the riot act by Miles on more than one occasion, so he knew that it wasn't the most pleasant experience. She squared her shoulders as she walked up the steps to the porch and readied herself to face the onslaught.


	2. Chapter 2

Miles was even angrier than she thought. “What were you thinking?” He threw at her. “Sleeping with Connor? Seriously, Bass’s kid? Dammit, Charlie.”

She stuck with the stock excuse. “What’s the big deal, Miles? He’s cute, I was bored.” She knew this wasn’t going to fly with him. Miles grimaced. “Kid, get out of here,” he ordered Connor. “Go hit on the mercenaries or something.” Connor looked relieved to have been issued at least a temporary reprieve. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he looked at Miles he obviously thought better of it and shut it again. He descended the steps rapidly and disappeared around the side of the house.

Bass remained where he was, in the same position, coolly watching with his arms folded across his chest. She guessed he had sold her out. _Pathetic_ , she thought.

Well, she wasn’t going to let these two intimidate her, either with shouting or with silence. “Seriously, Charlie, you were bored? Couldn’t you read a book? Or hey, why not antagonise one of the Vegas fighters. That probably would have been less stupid,” Miles snarked.

“Whatever, Miles. Like you haven’t slept around. What’s the difference? Just because I’m a woman?”

“A woman?! Charlie, you’re a girl. A child. You are not mature enough to be making these kinds of decisions!” Miles retorted.

“What? That’s ridiculous. I’m as much of an adult as you are. And I can make my own decisions.” Charlie was furious. She was so sick and tired of being treated like a child, when over the past year she had proved again and again that she was as capable as anyone.

“Oh please. What about the decision that we wouldn’t kill that bounty hunter on the way to Philadelphia? And then he came back and captured me again. Remember that?” Miles fixed her with a patronising look.

“You got away didn’t you?” Charlie snapped back. “And I don’t see how my aversion to killing people is relevant to this conversation!”

“It was a bad decision, Charlie. Just like this one. What if you got pregnant? Can you imagine how bad that would be?”

“It wasn’t the time for that,” she replied, but that just irritated him further. “You know that’s not a guaranteed science. For god’s sake. I mean, forget the potential health concerns for a minute, although hell, there are plenty of those.” Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly saw Bass shift his weight uncomfortably and drop his gaze at the histronics taking place on the veranda. Miles continued, “Imagine if you got pregnant. To Connor. You’d be stuck with him forever. And not just him,” he said, with a knowing smile and a raised eyebrow. “You’d be stuck with Monroe. He’d be your father-in-law of all things. Can’t imagine you’d be too pleased with that.”

Bass laughed. She glared at him in response.

“Like he isn’t part of our family already?” she shot back. “How many times have you said you hate him, you’re going to kill him, he’s nothing to you. Yet he’s still here isn’t he?” For the first time in the conversation it seemed Miles was speechless. Emboldened by his reaction, Charlie kept going. “Anyway, this isn’t about Monroe! This is about me. I don’t care what you think. I can make my own decisions whether they’re bad or good. So just get out of my face, you sanctimonious jerk.”

She’d had enough of this conversation. She dropped the string of rabbits, shoved past Miles, not looking at Bass, and stormed inside, going straight up the stairs to the bedroom she’d claimed as her own when they’d first found the farmhouse. She sat down on the bed and cried. She didn’t know why she was so het up about the whole situation, or why Miles kept treating her like a kid, or why Bass was so angry about the whole thing. What a mess.  
…

Charlie woke. She’d fallen asleep on the bed; crying always tired her out. Some hours had obviously passed, as it was pitch black outside. She realised with her start that Rachel was standing at the bedroom door; her mother’s gentle knock must have woken her up. She sat up on the bed, rubbing her eyes as her mother stepped in the room, taking Charlie’s silence as invitation. She carried a plate of steaming stew, rabbit by the look of it. Charlie took the bowl from her and began to eat hungrily. She was starving.

Rachel sat delicately on the edge of the bed and watched her eat, saying nothing. Once Charlie had finished, she asked, “are you okay?”

Charlie nodded, set the bowl down on the ground, and leaned back against the wall. “Its not a big deal, Mom,” she said, not sure whether she was talking about sleeping with Connor or fighting with Miles.

Rachel softly replied, “I disagree. Charlie, this was not a good idea. And it could become a big deal. What were you thinking? Don’t you know what the risks are?”

Charlie sighed. Not another conversation about this. “No, Mom, because I didn’t have a mother to talk to me about the risks, remember?” Rachel froze. Her face looked momentarily like Charlie had slapped her across the face, and even shifted back suddenly as if in response. Then she gathered herself, and replied gently, “What about Maggie?” Charlie knew she was beaten on that side of the argument. Her stepmother Maggie had been an excellent replacement mother whether Charlie liked her in the role or not. They’d had a long discussion about the birds and bees, Charlie fidgeting awkwardly, while Maggie continued her explanations without embarrassment, as if they were talking about the weather. She knew the details.

“OK, I know the risks. But I was safe on the time. And it was just a one-off. Don’t worry, I’m not exactly planning on it happening again.”

Rachel smiled. “Thank God. Because I really don’t want Connor as a son-in-law. He’s more than a little full of himself.” They both laughed. “I just want you to be safe. I’m your mother and you’re my little girl. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

There it was again – being called a child. Charlie pushed down her exasperation, but got up off the bed. “I’ll go wash this downstairs,” she said as she picked up the bowl, hoping her mother would understand the conversation was over. Her mother nodded and didn’t follow her; she remained sitting on the bed, staring out of the window at the stars as Charlie slipped out of the room towards the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

The house was quiet as Charlie made her way downstairs to the kitchen, bowl in hand. She could hear murmurs from the mercenaries outside, but on the whole everyone was settling down for a quiet night. She stood at the sink, rinsing the bowl a little too thoroughly, caught up in her own thoughts of the trip to New Vegas. Pulling the gun on Duncan, Connor, the casino heist, the terrifying moments of the death match before Duncan's men called a stop to it. It had all been pretty full-on. She was so distracted by her thoughts that she didn't hear Gene come into the kitchen.

"Hi Charlie," he said gruffly. "Welcome back."

Charlie smiled and turned. "Grandpa." She grinned at him, put the bowl down and ran at him, flinging her arms around him. "Good to see you."

"You too, kiddo," he said. "Sounds like you've had an eventful few days." He looked down at her, arms still encasing her tightly. "Do we need to have a talk?"

Charlie groaned and extricated herself from the hug. "You're kidding, right? Not you too?"

Gene shuffled his feet and looked a little embarrassed. "Aren't I allowed to worry about my only granddaughter? I just want you to make the right choices, Charlie." 

Charlie rolled her eyes and said, "Look, Grandpa, I've heard enough about this already. I'm going out for a walk." She grabbed her old jacket that she'd left hanging by the kitchen door and stepped out into the cool night air. Gene seemed like he wanted to argue the point, but obviously decided it was a bad idea, and instead he turned and went back into the house. 

She stood out there, breathing deeply, calming herself down. These little chats the "grown-ups" were insisting on having with her were getting her blood boiling. Its not even like Connor was the first guy she'd ever slept with. There was Jeff, of course, and a couple before him while she was on the search for Monroe. Prior to that, she'd had a short-lived romance back in Sylvania Estates, before her life became the convoluted mess that it was now; the boy was sweet, a couple of years older but just as inexperienced; they'd taught each other and learned each others bodies together.  Sure it had all seemed important and complicated then. 

Now she figured she didn't have too much time left, so why not spend some of her remaining time doing something fun?

Speaking of which.. she needed to get drunk, stat. That sounded like fun. And thankfully before she had left she had stashed some booze in the barn. She meandered in that direction, still frustrated and angry.

...

She almost had a heart attack when she entered the barn and found Bass curled up against a hay bale, swigging from her stash. He'd obviously been drinking for a while, judging by his slow reaction to her arrival -- and the half empty bottle of booze in his hand. "Bass!" she exclaimed, now even more frustrated. "You're stealing my whiskey!"

Bass shrugged. "You think you're the only one who needs a drink sometimes? You're lucky Miles didn't find your stash while we were away, he would have drunk the lot." He looked up at her. "Catch," he said, tossing her the half full bottle and reaching into the old wooden crate to grab himself a fresh bottle. "I'm guessing you're here for the same reason I am."

She twisted off the lid and took a long drink, appreciating the slow burn the liquid left as it flowed down her throat. Bass watched her with one eyebrow raised, and a knowing smirk on his face. "Guess so," she said, and took another gulp. 

He patted the straw next to him. "Come tell Uncle Bass all about it." She figured she might as well take him up on his offer and got comfortable next to him, leaning up against the hay bales. She could feel him next to her, although they weren't quite touching. Bass radiated an almost palpable intensity at times.

They each took a swig, both pondering the events of their trip away. They sat silently for some time. Charlie wasn't ready to talk yet, and Bass.. Bass didn't really expect her to open up. Not to him. And he wasn't sure that he wanted to hear what she wanted to say.

Finally, Charlie sighed, and said, "I just don't get it. Why's everyone so het up?"

Bass laughed. "Well Miles isn't ready to be a granddad for one. Or a grand-uncle. Or whatever he'd be." Charlie had to smile wryly at that, and even more so when Bass added, "Christ. Me either. I mean, I haven't exactly got the father thing nailed yet." 

A little encouraged by the fact that Bass was talking to her again, and that he seemed to be in a good mood, Charlie asked, "What about mom and Grandpa? I'm sick of them thinking I'm just some little kid. All of you do, and I'm not."

Bass rubbed his hand across the lower half of his face, and said softly, "I don't, Charlotte." She looked at him, surprised by the change in his tone. All of sudden he seemed serious, and there was a strange tone to voice. Was it.. regret? Sadness? She couldn't tell. She gulped another large mouthfuL of the cheap whiskey, and they both revelled in the silence for a short while. 

She then turned to him and said, "Well if you don't think I'm a little kid, what's your problem? Why do you care that I slept with Connor? Obviously its not that you don't like him, he's your son."

That solicited a small smile from him, and he replied, "Sure, I like him. But, Charlie, he just seems so, I don't know, young for you. I know he's older. Its just, I mean, the kid's an idiot, let's face it. He's a juvenile moron. I just don't understand why you'd go there. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

What was she thinking? Honestly, at the time, she wasn't thinking much of anything. She was riled up after the confrontation with Duncan, and frustrated with being kicked out of the negotiations, and irritated by Duncan's knowing smile, and annoyed by Bass's protectiveness of her. And Connor was there, gazing at her with that cutely pathetic puppy-dog adoration, and she just needed something to take the edge off. In hindsight, she wished she'd just found some whiskey instead. The brown nectar was having the desired effect on her already tonight, thanks to the large gulps she'd been taking. She felt relaxed, detached. She didn't know what to say, but she found words began spilling from her lips, loosened by the booze; and probably also by those ice-blue eyes fixed on her face. 

"What was I thinking? I was thinking that the older, more experienced, but probably as immature model was off smooth-talking some warlord. And that I hate him anyway."

Bass raised one eyebrow, and kept looking at her. 

"What does it matter what I'm thinking? What are you thinking?" she challenged him, Dutch courage in full force.

"What I'm thinking.. is not suitable for children," he smirked, and then he leaned over and kissed her hard on the lips. And suddenly she wasn't thinking anything at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews/comments/criticisms all welcome. Wish the Olympics were over already!


End file.
